


Heroes Do Exist

by LilMissNerdfighter, TheGameIsOn_Geronimo



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, M/M, There will be a happy ending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-30
Updated: 2012-11-30
Packaged: 2017-11-19 22:47:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/578462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilMissNerdfighter/pseuds/LilMissNerdfighter, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGameIsOn_Geronimo/pseuds/TheGameIsOn_Geronimo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>3 years after The Reichenbach Fall, Doctor John Watson has moved on. Sherlock Holmes, on the other hand, has other plans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heroes Do Exist

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is cowritten by TheGameIsOn-Geronimo (on FF.net) and I.  
> To let you know whose point of view you're reading, either SPOV (Sherlock's perspective) or JPOV (John's perspective) will appear whenever the point of view has changed.  
> We hope you enjoy this fic!

SPOV

His hand shook slightly as he held the phone to his ear, hearing the confusion from his only friend, far below on the ground.

He stood. His toes hanging off the edge of the cold stone, balanced, poised, ready to jump.

He looked to the man standing on the safe pavement. He couldn’t see his face. Why couldn’t he see his face? For the last time. He just wanted to see John’s face.

This had to work. There was no question about it. It had to work. He didn’t want to die. He wouldn’t die.

Unbidden tears trickled down his cheek as he listened to John.

_No one could be that clever. You could._

His trust. He still trusted him, after all of this. How would he live without him?

He was doing this for him. That’s what all this is for. John can’t die. He can.

It won’t affect him that much, surely? John would move on. Pick himself up, walk away. John always denied his feelings. They were only friends, after all. And friends changed.

John tries to move, tries to reach him before the inevitable happens. He holds out a hand, stopping him. He can’t come any closer. He can’t. He struggles to keep his voice steady, it shakes without him meaning it to, betraying his true feelings.

_Please, would you do this for me?_

A word he never usually uses. Shows the desperation in him. In the back of his mind, he loathes himself. He shouldn’t feel that desperate, that weak. But this is John. And this is the day he leaves him forever.

The final game.

He wants to hear John’s answer. He says okay. Is that really the response he wanted? Didn’t he want him to ignore him, run to him, hold him.

He has to do it now. Everything set, everything in place. He tells John about the note. He doesn’t understand, but works it out quickly. He’s so proud of him. He’s learnt his trade so well.

His final words, final goodbye, are hard to push out of his throat.

_Goodbye, John._

He throws the phone behind him, clattering to a halt next to Moriarty’s body. The Police will find it soon another.

He swallows the lump in his throat, the nerves coiling in his stomach.

Face set, eyes closed, arms out.

He hears John shout is name. It makes his heart leap. But too late. Too late.

He’s Falling.

JPOV

A hand reaching out.

_Please, would you do this for me?_

A note? No, there’s no need for a note. Please, step away from the edge, dear. Stop. Don’t-please-don’t.

_Goodbye, John._

The phone line is dead and he’s frozen to the pavement, horrified. He knows that his flatmate is not a fake- there is no way his best friend could be a fraud. The things that he knew about him- you couldn’t find that sort of stuff out from a Google search. There was no way that Sherlock could’ve been a fake. Please step away from the edge, love- there’s so much left unsaid. Too many cups of tea and not enough talking. Take a step back, for me. I believe in you. John can see him, standing there, swaying slightly in the breeze and then he’s falling.

_Sherlock!_

He doesn’t wait to see his friend hit the pavement. He’s running, and barely feels the cyclist knocking him to the floor. Mimicking Sherlock. The world is spinning; he pulls himself to his feet and races forwards.

_I’m a doctor. Let me come through._

The crowd doesn’t part. Why won’t they let him through? Don’t they know? Sherlock. He fights his way forward.

_Please. He’s my friend. He’s my friend._

Blood on the pavement. So much blood. Still warm. No pulse. Sherlock. Wake up, please, Sherlock. Open your eyes and complain about how cold the ground is. They’re pulling John away. He’s shaking. This can’t be happening. His best friend lying on the pavement. Sherlock. 

_Oh God, no._

 

 


End file.
